


Alone

by Hanajimasama



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: A little help from our friends, Dreams, Nightmares, Owls, friends - Freeform, what we lost in the fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanajimasama/pseuds/Hanajimasama
Summary: After Goodnight leaves in the dead of night on the eve of battle he suffers another nightmare but his new found friends are there to save him.





	Alone

Nightmares were something Goodnight expected when he fell asleep but even after twelve long years of experiencing these nightmares he never got used to them. Even though they always seemed to be the same or similar they chilled the Cajun to the core.

Tonight was just the same as always but this time for the first time in a long time he had to deal with them alone. He had lost his favourite hip flask, god knows where that confounded thing was and that meant no alcohol to try and keep the demons at bay.  
The crackling and gentle glow of the fire were slowly swallowed by an impenetrable darkness.

The darkness seemed to softly cradle Goodnight but it was never for long. As he closed his eyes the darkness released him and let the sharpshooter fall. The air whirled past him but made no sound as he fell. Landing with a muffled thud on what felt like waterlogged fields, Goodnight groaned and pushed himself up. Fruitless as it seemed, he looked around him but saw nothing apart from his own being.

_Alone._

_Of course._

_Who else would there be?_

The ache of old wounds throbbed and burned. He was struggling to breath, clutching at his chest with one hand and trying to pull his scarf from around his neck. The tightness in his crest worsened the more he struggled and gasped for air.  
As the panic set in the wet ground beneath Goodnight sank and started to drag him down like quicksand. From the darkness a green light flickered eerily before him  
Struggling to swallow the lump in his throat, Goodnight's bright blue eyes glanced upwards him and the ground pulled him down again.

_The owl._

It loomed over him and it's silent presence stole what little air was left in Goodnight's lungs. Gasping, crying and shaking with fear Goodnight could do nothing but succumb to the demons. He sank further and further into the darkness of his own mind.

He stopped falling. The smell of all too familiar cigarettes followed by a hand on his shoulder quelled his shaking. A warm orange glow broke through the cold unfeeling darkness.

_Goody._

A small smile tugged at his chapped lips. Billy had been a blessing in disguise. He'd found an unlikely friend in the Asian assassin. Billy didn't speak much but his presence was enough. The assassin had had his own share of pain and strife but he moved forward with no hint of looking back at his past.

Another hand fell on his other shoulder and another torch was lit.

_Goody. Come on._

Goodnight turned his gaze to the stern stare of Sam Chisolm. His frown turned into a bright reassuring smile that reminded Goodnight that he wasn't the only fighting his past and even though they had been through so much there was a future waiting to be explored.

“What we lost in the ashes-”

_We'll find in the ashes._

A rough hand grabbed Goodnight almost by the scruff of his neck making the sharpshooter curse and yet another torch shone through the darkness. The soft voice of Jack Horne reached his ears. Jack was an soul he had seen so many winters and lost so much but nonetheless he clung firmly to his faith.

_We have all done things we are not proud of but our Lord is forgiving and merciful. We can atone for our transgressions. Now, up you get we have the Lord's work to do._

 

Sam, Billy and Jack together pulled Goodnight back onto his feet. Stumbling forward into the darkness two hands jutted out to grab his arms, two more torches flickered brightly.

_Come on amigo._

_Show us the legend you're supposed to be._

Vasquez and Joshua Faraday were a mystery. Both seemed to have a front, a facade that they lived by. Faraday’s was more by choice, the cocksure gambler and self proclaimed world's greatest lover why he chose this road was a mystery but he wanted to be seen, to be remembered and to not be forgotten.

Now Vasquez was an enigma, he was running from the law. A ranger shot but nobody knows why. He won’t mention it. And yet despite the secrecy he seemed so comfortable around the group. Perhaps what he yearned was simply to stop running, to settle down with a family and live out his days in peace.

One more light flickered behind him and gave him one last push. Words uttered in a language he wasn’t familiar with. It was Red Harvest. Out of the seven he was the strangest addition. He was fighting to save white men, why? Simply because Sam asked? Sam was adamant that the young Comanche would fight by their side, didn’t say why and stated that it didn’t matter. 

Goodnight looked up from the floor to see the rag tag group stood in front of him smiling at him. They all gave off a bright warming glow which broke through the darkness. The owl spirit behind them twisted and faded into nothingness.   
The smell of alcohol and cigarettes flooded the air. Goodnight blinked and found himself sat around the table with them all. They were smiling and laughing joyously.

They had all lost so much. Perhaps it was that which had drawn them together. In the ashes they found each other. A strange group that brought a little smile to his lips. It had been a long time since he had had this many people he was proud to call his friends.

Goodnight rose from the chair drawing the attention of the others.  
“No more running away Goodnight Robicheaux. I ain’t the angel of death for nothing.”  
They smiled at him. Sam nodded and rose to meet Goodnight holding out his hand which the Cajun accepted firmly.  
 _“See you soon Goody.”_  
*

Goodnight woke with a start. The fire had long since burnt out and the first signs of dawn were creeping over the horizon. Stumbling to his feet and rushing to pack all his things quickly Goodnight felt a strange resolve in his heart one he hadn’t felt in a long time not since he joined the Civil War all those years ago, back when he was so sure what he was fighting for. Even though he knew the future looked bleach and his heart was also full of dread he knew what he had to do. Mounting his horse he looked off into the distance sunrise.   
“I have to save them.” Grabbing the reins tightly he spurred his horse off back towards Rose Creek. The small farming village was further away than Goodnight had remembered but as he made it well after the skirmish had begun. Chaos was all around them. The horse leapt over a wooden barricade engulfed in fire and Goodnight’s voice screamed out a strange battle cry he remembered from the war and took aim on the enemies.  
It was the beginning of the end.


End file.
